


Coffee Break

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: For the prompt: M&S still strangers: I'm so sorry about your coffee, let me at least buy you a new one.





	Coffee Break

He’s all arms and elbows, a journal tucked under one armpit, a phone pressed to his ear and he’s listening but not saying anything. He’s nodding like he’s about to break into the conversation but then he dips his chin, contrite, and presses his lips together. He’s got a fine mouth, she thinks, then turns her eyes away, gathering some sanity from the other, less attractive people in the coffee shop. He orders a black, double shot and picks up a turkey and cheese sandwich from the fridge. He shovels into his pocket for change and throws it across the counter.  
“No, Diana. I won’t,” he says and ends the call. The phone is tucked into his inside suit pocket and that’s when she notices his holster.  
Figures, she thinks. FBI. As he waits for his order he opens the journal and she catches the title. The Lone Gunmen. There’s a garish title, something about a government conspiracy and alien visitors alongside a grainy photo of George Bush next to a photo of a being that bore a strong resemblance to the president himself. She tries not to laugh out loud.  
She orders her coffee, same as his, selects a sandwich, same as his. He’s talking on the phone again. Actually talking this time, not being talked to. His shoulders are higher, his smile is genuine, he’s enjoying this one. His order is called and he strides forward, still chatting about old files and how coincidences are there to obfuscate the reality. She pays for her order, walks towards him to wait. He takes his coffee and stands there, talking. His half of the conversation is fascinating. She tries not to look like she’s listening but it’s difficult not to notice his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, the mole on his cheek, the way his fringe flops over his forehead.  
Her order is called and she steps forward to collect it. He swings round, ending his conversation and as he pockets his phone his elbow connects with hers and her cup goes flying, brown liquid splattering over the floor, the counter, her new suit. It scalds and she yelps.  
“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing a handful of serviettes and knocking the pile of spoons over. She’s watching them slide in the coffee that’s pooling at her feet, and trying to pull her wet blouse from her body.  
“It’s okay.” She takes a wad of serviettes and presses them to her stomach, dabbing the coffee and inhaling its aroma.  
He’s dabbing her too then stops, blushes as he realises what he’s doing and takes a step back. The staff member has a mop and is sliding it between them. He’s just standing there watching and she’s just standing there holding her blouse out and feeling the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks. It feels like minutes, but it’s seconds. And she is aware of every single one.  
“I’m so sorry about your coffee, let me at least buy you a new one.” He reaches for his wallet.  
“Dana?” She glances over her shoulder.  
“Then take mine. You ordered the same.”  
She smiles at him. He noticed. His phone rings and as he answers it, his shoulders slump. “Diana.”  
“Dana?”  
She holds up a hand, then turns back to him. “It’s fine. You look like you could use it more than me.”  
“Dana?”  
She turns back to the voice. “I’m coming, Jack.”


End file.
